


If You've Lost Your Guts

by OfMirthAndTears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfMirthAndTears/pseuds/OfMirthAndTears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin is perfectly content with his quiet bookshop and mild-mannered customers. But when he dares to venture into the vibrant tattoo parlor next door, he meets one Nymphadora Tonks and his life is spun into complete and utter chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You've Lost Your Guts

**Author's Note:**

> I live for random AUs and cliched endings. Can't stop.

Out of all the things Remus Lupin loved the most about his little bookshop on the corner of Chestwood Lane and Fisher Row, it was how the books looked in the morning. The sun would catch the dust just slightly and send swirls of grays through the air. Light would dance across the glass panes of the window and highlight the fantastical colours of the books he treasured so. 

Of course, this was all ruined by the loud bass beat coming from next door. 

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Every day, his neighbors had to insist on blaring that god-awful music. It wasn’t even music, he thought indignantly. Just a collection of hoarse vocals and the occasional wail of an electric guitar. 

_It’s a holiday in Cambodia  
It’s tough, kid, but it’s life _

A man browsing the Adult Fiction aisle sent him a disapproving glare. Remus’ shoulders sagged under his jumper. Damn. 

“Neville!” He called and a moment later, a head poked out from the back storage. Neville was the only other worker in the shop besides Remus. Fresh out of university, Neville was a bright, albeit shy, young man, but with a good head on his shoulders. 

“Yeah, boss?”

“Watch the store for me, please,” Remus said, slipping on his coat. “I’m going to go have a word with our neighbors.”

Why anybody thought putting a tattoo parlour next to a bookstore sounded a good idea was beyond Remus. Really, the nerve of some people. He frowned at the fluorescent “Open” sign perched in the door next to a sign advertising a band called “The Bloody Cocks.” Compared to his cream painted front with the gold embossing, this shop with the chipped red paint and dusty windows looked quite grubby indeed. 

Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose. Straightening his shoulders, he took a step forward and hesitantly pushed open the parlour door. 

To his surprise, the inner room did not match the grimy exterior at all. In fact, the dark paneled walls and warm lighting reminded him a bit of his own shop just next door. If it weren’t for the radio blaring screeching music in the back, Remus might have thought that he had walked into the wrong shop. He eyed the stacks of books with some appreciation; they were piled some ten or twelve novels high or else crammed into rickety shelves and towering cases. Many of them looked far older than most of his personal collection.    
Remus approached the front desk with some hesitancy, where a woman had her back to him and was clicking away on a laptop.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “My name is Remus Lupin, I own the bookshop next door. Might there be any way that you can -“

“Oh, the bookshop!” The woman turned around and grinned broadly at Remus. “Yes, I’ve been in there several times. Fantastic place you’ve got.”

Remus blinked. He was sure that if this stranger had been in his shop, she would stick out in his memory. Not many of his customers had pink hair. Or a nose ring. Or wore eyeshadow that was quite that blue. Or had eyes that were that dark and seemingly bottomless. Remus could unconciously feel his eyes slipping downwards over her studded choker and simple black t-shirt that stopped just a few inches above her hips, showing off the tail end of a large floral tattoo over a stunningly toned stomach and -

Remus’ eyes snapped back upwards. 

“..found myself a lovely copy of Moby Dick in there, I did,” the woman was saying, still baring that lovely smile. “Beautifully detailed in gold and silver and the illustrations were just to die for. ‘Course, the book is boring as hell, but what are you going to do, eh? I’m personally more of a Jane Austen fan myself.” She winked at Remus and he felt as if his heart was about to give out. “Well.” She leaned forward onto her elbows and a strand of pink hair fell into her eyes. “What can I do for you then?” 

“Ah- er - “ Remus’ mouth was dry. He coughed. “I run the shop next door and the racket you’re playing is quite distracting.”

She frowned. “What, you don’t like the Dead Kennedys?”

“I…what?”

“Dead Kennedys. Fantastic band, really. Don’t listen to what other people say. Frankenchrist is one of the greatest albums ever made.” Despite her bright words, she was frowning as Remus. “You want us to turn it off?”

Remus nodded. “Yes. Or down. But preferably…off.” He shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling awkward and small under her piercing glare. 

“Well, I’ll have to talk to the manager, won’t I?” she asked. Her pink lips were pressed into a thin line.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Remus said quickly, leaning forward with some urgency. “It’s just a simple matter of turning the wireless off - “

“I’ll have to talk to the manager,” she repeated. “Or…” She leaned even further forward, frown suddenly twisting into a wicked smirk. “You come with me to one of these “racket’ bands and then we won’t play music anymore. At least not that loudly.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to frown. “I beg your pardon?”

The woman leaned back, seemingly very pleased with herself. “That’s right. Let me take you to a show and if you can last the night, we won’t play any more music.”

“And what’s in it for you?”

The woman’s eyes practically glowed. “Please. A chance to take some jumper-nut bookshop owner out for a night with my crowd? That’s entertainment in itself. Although, if you really are so sure about it being equal. . .” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Let me give you a tattoo.”

“What?!” Remus spluttered. “I - I - that’s hardly equal and I don’t need to go through that again and - “

Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “You’ve got a tattoo?”

Remus could have hit himself. “I never said that - “

“But -“

“I didn’t.”

“You just - “

“I said nothing.” 

The woman’s eyebrows were arched upwards in delight. “My, my, you are full of secrets, aren’t you, Mr. Lupin?’

“Are we all though?” Remus mused quietly, picking at a flake of paint on the desk. He looked up suddenly, meeting the woman straight in the eyes. “Fine. f I can withstand a whole night at one of those…concerts, you don’t play anymore music. If I can’t, you can-you can give me a tattoo.”

“Brilliant!” The woman grinned again at him and stuck out a hand. “Shake on it, mate!”

“I don’t even know your name,” Remus said as he gently took the woman’s hand into his own. Despite her petite frame, her grip was surprisingly strong and he could feel callouses on her otherwise soft skin. 

“Tonks.”

“Pardon?”

“My name. Tonks.”

“That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Almost as bad as ‘Remus Lupin.’”

Remus pulled his hand away and shoved it into his coat pocket. “One can’t help it when his mother had an unfortunate love for Roman mythology.”    
Tonks was laughing as he shuffled towards the front of the parlor.

“I’ll pick you up at 8 PM tomorrow?” She asked. 

“I look forward to it.” Despite the growing worry in his stomach, Remus actually found himself anticipating the following evening with some excitement. There was something about this woman in the tattoo shop with the pink hair and love for Jane Austen novels. He didn’t even notice his fingers tapping against his thigh as he exited the shop in a random beat to the music still blaring behind him.

 _If my friends say_  
I’ve lost my guts   
I’ll laugh and say    
That’s rock and roll 


End file.
